Confession sheep came in. He arrived without knocking, just like a trauma. If something is from the past, clocks immediately fade away. It’s only the memories that remain. They speak in past tense only, for present tense didn’t exist back then. It’s like flash bulb memories, leaving you alone with that taste of sour or burning mud in the back of your mind when suddenly a not-digested chunk of history comes back chocking you up. It’s like pressing a button, that makes a sound and opens the door. A gutteral to the past. Our buzzing sounded more like bleating and there’s when confession sheep stepped in. He introduced himself als mirr, but we knew better.
Its bleating was so recognizable; it was like a womähs voice. It felt as if he grazed in our meadow once or knew the sheep we hung out with.
And the voice soothed. Soothing. But soothing would not be the best word to describe how he came across. Still it is exactly what happened. We felt soothed. He made us realize that words like ‘soon’ don’t exist on a clock. The voice was also not be impressed much by things from afar. It cared only about things connected. And that is what it did. Connect. Either with us or just us. And therefore it soothed.
‘I know you have been living in days that ended up being just that. Days. The day existed only because it was held together by these brackets called yesterday and tomorrow. I also know that you felt like everything you felt was projected on this see-through veil of the day. But riddle me this.. why a projector? Where hung the veil? What sound were the words? And who saw the shade on the wall behind it, where letters are usually seen in this typically shady colorless blur?’
‘If you look back on some of your yesterdays you can see something was left on the outside of this wall. You haven’t been out much, I know, so you saw the reflection inwards only.’
Did we read what he wrote? Or did we actually hear his voice? Reading was not that hard, this mähle voice could read backwards easily. Anyone can, by the way. If you live in an upside world long enough, eventually you start seeing the world upright again.. or right again, .. as strange as this may sound. This is why humans stay in a bad situation for far too long.. because things eventually become normal, and safe even, even when they’re not. Living backwards gives you the same powers.
‘To continue your thoughts then, Potamotrygorgeous, no it was not the reading that was hard. It was what came after. The understanding of the words. It is not what youreyes saw, it’s what your heart read. And it was a gentle golden thread stitched into the veil. It read ‘break a promise, nobody deserves to be unsheepishly unknown.’ I know you wanted to scratch that sentence, scratch it like a lottery ticket, hoping there would be golden words underneath, but how can you erase a shadow if you don’t know about sun? The flock hasn’t been out much, and neither has you.’
And while he looked at us we looked at Confession Sheep. It was nothing like an ordinary staring contest, no winners. Instead of this all confession sheep accidentally scratched the record that had been playing in the background: ‘never get angry’ it sung. It had been echoing in some of our heads for so long that we even heard it reflected when looking in the mirror. It sickened one other sheep too. Were we actually waiting for an arrival? Could we have foreseen this? Should we have herded better?
‘Never get angry. Never get angry. Repeat.’ There was word vomit. Confession sheep kept staring. His voice didn’t turn from sounding mähle to something else. We didn’t even promise, we just did. About the getting angry part. The never getting it, we mean. Like a sheep we followed the flocking nonsense-sentence, the ‘madsense’ if that will ever make it to the word of the sheep year of 2015.
‘Never get angry.’ Why was there obedience? Why was one sheep to reach for that repeat button? We knew sheep would never hurt, neither transitive nor intransitive. That is why they cannot speak human words. Because human words are usually covered in veil. This see-through veil, where everything is covered up, or projected upon. If veil covers you, you can’t even hear or see straight. You are invisible to others. While being covered, it can suffocate you even, leaving you unable to feel your feelings. If anything, it leaves you searching for that second dictionary, where all the in-between-words are scribbled down.
‘Give me your hand’, Confession Sheep said. But instead we heard the repetition… ‘never get angry,’ repeated again. Maybe this was the reason we were destined to herding, because sheep will never hurt.
‘Relax your stress,’ Confession Sheep said. ‘Lay your finger in my lap, to rest.’ And suddenly we saw this shadow reading to us to break that promise. Whether it was the voice or the shadow: it was right. There was so much to do, like make brackets into wings, stop looking in the mirror, and go outside. Was it time already? The sheep couldn’t tell time, all the numbers were scrambled anyway, as was Confession Sheep’s mind, and he saw no hoofs, no ten, nor two.
We asked Confession Sheep what time it was. A voice said: ‘the clock reads ‘now’.
‘What else?’, we asked, because we saw Confession Sheep turning the clock over.
‘I am just the sheep of the iceberg,’ Confession Sheep thought. Instead, he said nothing, and projected something on our skin:
ʜɈɿow ɘɿɒ υoγ Ɉɒʜw wonʞ υoγ nɘʜw .ƨɈnυoɔƨib ɘlqoɘq ϱniviϱ qoɈƨ lliw υoγ